


Lost Moments

by Tahimikamaxtli



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 08:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18117380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahimikamaxtli/pseuds/Tahimikamaxtli
Summary: A collection of disparate drabbles of variable length/pairing.





	1. Shadows and Rain

It never rained in Demacia.

Not in the summer, not in the fall, and rarely even in the winter. The only true rains were the modest spring showers, and even those came to Demacia Proper on but rare occasion. That was one of the many reasons it was called the City of Sunlight. Thunderstorms were an even rarer affair – the angry, flashing portents of ill tidings to come – that came to gnash and rage twice a year, if that.

But rain had fallen every day for the past week, turning the golden city grey and colorless beneath the clouds. Rainwater turned the roads to dark rivers that tugged hungrily at wet, uncertain ankles, and it gathered in the steepled roofs before running off in white torrents. Down among the paved whitestone streets, narrowed eyes cast suspicious glances up at the dark skies overhead, and irritated mouths muttered ancient curses between clenched teeth. Rain was for Noxus, after all – not Demacia.

She was far more familiar with rain than the others; years spent deployed behind enemy lines, sleeping in caves and under trees in more foreign lands than she could count had long since acquainted her with all manner of unfavorable weather. Still, the strange significance of it did not escape her. Here, in the very heart of the Kingdom, the rain only ever brought ill moods – and even worse omens – with it.

With swift, coltish strides, she wound her way through narrow alleyways back to the apartment that she shared with the golden-haired girl. She had forgotten her cloak that day, and purple hair stuck determinedly to her forehead. The keys rattled slightly in her fingers, numb with something more beyond simply the just the cold and damp. Since that week began, she had felt the electricity in the air, tugging at her skin tantalizingly even as it raised gooseflesh on her arms. The door to the apartment opened slowly, and the dim light from outside cut dully into the awaiting dark.

Of course, he was already there, little more than a shadow standing amongst the rest. Somehow, she had known that he would be. She had guessed it, all those days ago, when she had seen the first dark cloud gathering in the sapphire sky. It was bold of him to come here, deep into the very heart of his enemy. Perhaps the storm had given him confidence. Or perhaps he had brought it with him. The golden-haired girl was gone that month, sent away on some mission neither of them could speak of, and she wondered if that was why he was here now, dripping rainwater onto her floor. Deep in the furthest reaches of her mind, she wondered at how he always seemed to know.

_Maybe not_ , she thought then. Perhaps it was for the better that she did not know how; it might save them, for when they were finally caught like she always knew they would be.

But then a flash of white lightning illuminated the room, and she saw him clearly. He was a thin, knife’s-edge silhouette against the faded blue of the walls. A ghost. In the sudden light, his yellow eyes were like a hawk’s. Then it was gone – _he_ was gone – and his shadow was on her. His breath – _just like sweetmilk_ , she thought, drunkenly – was warm against her, and she closed her eyes momentarily. There was a flutter in her stomach – equal parts fear and desire – at just how _right_ it felt to have him here, so close to her. His hands were already on her waist, and they had stumbled halfway towards her bedroom before either of them said a word.

“I can’t stay long,” he muttered finally, moving away from her mouth and back to the damp skin of her neck.

She did not respond, merely pulled him closer, digging her shaking fingers into his long, wet hair. Her shirt slid easily off bare shoulders, and she shivered at the sudden chill of the storm-cooled air. She could already feel him through the cloth of his cloak, hungry and tense and firm against her.

She felt the movement of his burning lips against hers even as his fingers danced up the back of her thighs like curious spiders, seizing the hem of her pants. A vicious tug. Then another. And then she gasped, loud and hard against his throat, at just how much her need mirrored his. Later, when the world outside the bedroom was a black blur, and the sheets were a madness around him, and the only thing she cared about was the desperate motion of his hips against hers, she finally found the words she had lost.

“ _You don’t have to_.”

…

It was still later – deep into the witching hour that crashed cold dreams against the windows – when he slipped out from beneath the covers as silently as he could draw one of his knives. There was only the slightest whisper of falling sheets as he sat up on the edge of her bed, still and pale as a marble statue. She knew he would be gone soon; gone to do whatever it was he had come to Demacia to do in the first place.

But this time, she had been waiting for him to leave her like he always did. She shifted, and he stiffened as he felt the motion in the sheets. Her fingers landed – hesitatingly at first – on one of the many scars that decorated his bare back. He flinched, the way he always did, before she relaxed into the gentle touch of her fingertips.

“I have to go.”

His voice was as cold and smooth as the edge of a knife, heavy with the finality of someone else’s death.

She sighed into the cool air; the way he loved her was merciless sometimes. Her golden eyes shone for a moment before she closed them, settling back against the waiting pillows.

“I know.”

…

3.14.19


	2. Snowfall

Akali sat cross-legged on the ground, her eyes closed and palms resting lightly on her knees. Despite the snow that fell like dreams around her, and the filigreed layer of white that covered the ground, she wore only a blood-red kimono, secured around her waist with a white sash. It had been almost 4 hours since she had gone outside to meditate, and though her skin was pale, and her cheeks flushed pink, her narrow face betrayed no sign of discomfort.

All around her, the thin, naked trees of the White Forest were still with the breathless quiet of winter. She sat in the middle of a large clearing in the trees, just outside a humble wooden hut, from whose chimney silver spirals of smoke twisted up into the flat, grey sky.

She inhaled, long and deep, letting the cold air fill and prickle the inside of her lungs before she let it free as a fast-faded whisper of white breath. She repeated the action, and slowly, she began to count her breaths, keeping each one the same length as the next. She had counted to nearly 100 when there was a stir of motion in the stillness. Her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her knees as the echoes of the sound faded away.

At first, there was no more motion, and Akali waited with her breath held like glass in her lungs. Then light footsteps cracked the film of ice on the snow, and the figure moved closer. Akali caught the smell of something sweet – sweet but too sweet, like blood or overripe fruit – and it stirred something in her that belonged to an animal. Breathing in hard through her mouth, Akali kept her eyes shut tight.

The figure moved again, and this time, Akali felt the brush of something feather-soft around her neck. Against the cold, numb skin of her exposed shoulders, the touch was like fire, and Akali could not stop the goosebumps that rose, needy, where the memory of the touch was already fading.

The figure settled in front of her, and Akali exhaled loudly between her teeth, feeling the heat of her breath as it rose before her face.

“You’re too close.”

“It’s cold,” said a voice, soft and tempting.

“Then go back inside,” said Akali, still without opening her eyes.

“Join me.”

“When I’m done.”

Nails – as sharp as knives, and twice as deadly – dragged suddenly against the exposed skin of Akali’s thigh. She could not stop the trembling shudder that wound its way snake-like up her spine. Before she could say anything more, slender fingers had seized her face – half-hungry, half-possessive – and pulled her against sweet-tasting lips. The kiss reminded her of cherries, and of something deeper – something darker and ravenous that hid behind a sweet mouth. Teeth that were too-sharp tugged at Akali’s bottom lip as they pulled away, and the nails on her neck dragged slowly down, dangerously close to her pulsing jugular. Shakily, Akali let go of the breath trapped in her lungs, opening her eyes at last as she did.

Ahri was a sigh’s distance away, and the gold of her eyes was brighter than all the jewelry in the world. Her face was sharp and hungry, and her teeth were bared in a half-snarl. Heat stirred in Akali’s belly, and Ahri’s next words were a low growl that trembled.

“No. _Now_.”

…

3.15.19


End file.
